Read Online The Diplomat by Sophia French - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Sophia French
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pageboy. As he noticed Rema’s approach, Yorin’s eyebrows made an intrepid attempt to reach the top of his head, and he waved the servant away. “You’re lucky I don’t make you a jester, you damn fool. Now go on, get.”
“Yes, Master.” The pageboy gave Rema a grateful look before scampering off.
“That idiot is more useless than an aphrodisiac in a monastery.” Yorin exhaled a long, irate sigh. “Nevermind, nevermind. Who is your colorful friend, Rema?”
“Welcome, palace man of great dignity!” It seemed Danoshan was not one of Muhan’s stronger languages. “I be known as a trader, Muhan.” He clasped his hands together in a gesture of respect. “To where is the address of my honor?”
There was a moment of awkward silence, and Rema cleared her throat. “Yorin, can you speak Annari? It might help.”
“Well enough,” said Yorin in capable Annari. “Stop butchering my native tongue, Muhan. I’m Yorin, the king’s steward. I suppose you’re here to sell me something.”
“Exotic dyes!” Muhan spread his arms wide. “Shades beyond even the comprehension of nature! If you don’t mind me saying, your plain robe could be transformed into a spectacle of radiance with only a momentary soak.”
“If we can’t eat it, I’m not interested.”
“What you do with the dye is none of my concern. For all I know, it may taste as spectacular as it looks.”
“Give him a chance,” said Rema. “Don’t you think Elise and Loric might at least be curious to see him?”
“I suppose they might,” said Yorin. “Especially Loric. The boy’s too easily amused. And it’ll give him a chance to practice his Annari.” He scratched the tip of his nose. “You’re fortunate that you found our persuasive friend to talk on your behalf, Muhan. I’ll inform the court you’re here.” He retrieved an envelope from his robe. “And Rema, this is for you. I don’t know why she didn’t come to you directly.”
Rema turned the envelope in her hands. It was unmarked, but she detected a familiar perfume. To her alarm, the scent provoked her heart to beat faster. “Thank you,” she said, slipping the envelope into the pocket of her coat. “Shall I leave you two to get better acquainted?”
Yorin nodded, his mind clearly already on other things. Muhan grinned and twirled his mustache in her direction. “I appreciate your support, my lady of Arann. I look forward to meeting you again.”
“I’m not hard to find. Just follow the giggling of the servants.”
Rema returned to her chambers and closed the door behind her. It was cool within, and the room was dark enough that she paused to light a lamp at the bedside. She sat on the edge of her bed and tore the envelope open. The letter inside bore one of the strangest writing hands she’d ever seen; every letter seemed to have a new loop or flourish.
Sweetest R: You are beautiful and witty and I miss you already. Remember, there’s trouble on the way. Be a wary little diplomat and don’t forget to wear your present! Forever, E.
The intimacy of the letter was sweet, even touching—but its content was puzzling. If Rema were to list those people who had reason to see her harmed, Elise would be at the top, yet it was the enchantress herself sending her affectionate warnings. Yorin? He had the power to harm her, but he was the closest she had to a certain ally. Loric? Ridiculous. Cedrin and Talitha? No ruler would touch an imperial diplomat. What about Muhan? He had a personal motive to dislike the Empire, but Rema was a fair judge of character and found it hard to picture him as a brightly-daubed assassin. That left Calan and the mysterious hooded man.
It was too much to think about, and she was tired of this drab palace. Rema returned to the hallway and walked to the nearest guard. He eyed her nervously as she drew closer.
“Good morning, guardsman,” she said. “Is there a tavern close by where the food is edible and the water clean?”
“The
“Yes, Master.” The pageboy gave Rema a grateful look before scampering off.
“That idiot is more useless than an aphrodisiac in a monastery.” Yorin exhaled a long, irate sigh. “Nevermind, nevermind. Who is your colorful friend, Rema?”
“Welcome, palace man of great dignity!” It seemed Danoshan was not one of Muhan’s stronger languages. “I be known as a trader, Muhan.” He clasped his hands together in a gesture of respect. “To where is the address of my honor?”
There was a moment of awkward silence, and Rema cleared her throat. “Yorin, can you speak Annari? It might help.”
“Well enough,” said Yorin in capable Annari. “Stop butchering my native tongue, Muhan. I’m Yorin, the king’s steward. I suppose you’re here to sell me something.”
“Exotic dyes!” Muhan spread his arms wide. “Shades beyond even the comprehension of nature! If you don’t mind me saying, your plain robe could be transformed into a spectacle of radiance with only a momentary soak.”
“If we can’t eat it, I’m not interested.”
“What you do with the dye is none of my concern. For all I know, it may taste as spectacular as it looks.”
“Give him a chance,” said Rema. “Don’t you think Elise and Loric might at least be curious to see him?”
“I suppose they might,” said Yorin. “Especially Loric. The boy’s too easily amused. And it’ll give him a chance to practice his Annari.” He scratched the tip of his nose. “You’re fortunate that you found our persuasive friend to talk on your behalf, Muhan. I’ll inform the court you’re here.” He retrieved an envelope from his robe. “And Rema, this is for you. I don’t know why she didn’t come to you directly.”
Rema turned the envelope in her hands. It was unmarked, but she detected a familiar perfume. To her alarm, the scent provoked her heart to beat faster. “Thank you,” she said, slipping the envelope into the pocket of her coat. “Shall I leave you two to get better acquainted?”
Yorin nodded, his mind clearly already on other things. Muhan grinned and twirled his mustache in her direction. “I appreciate your support, my lady of Arann. I look forward to meeting you again.”
“I’m not hard to find. Just follow the giggling of the servants.”
Rema returned to her chambers and closed the door behind her. It was cool within, and the room was dark enough that she paused to light a lamp at the bedside. She sat on the edge of her bed and tore the envelope open. The letter inside bore one of the strangest writing hands she’d ever seen; every letter seemed to have a new loop or flourish.
Sweetest R: You are beautiful and witty and I miss you already. Remember, there’s trouble on the way. Be a wary little diplomat and don’t forget to wear your present! Forever, E.
The intimacy of the letter was sweet, even touching—but its content was puzzling. If Rema were to list those people who had reason to see her harmed, Elise would be at the top, yet it was the enchantress herself sending her affectionate warnings. Yorin? He had the power to harm her, but he was the closest she had to a certain ally. Loric? Ridiculous. Cedrin and Talitha? No ruler would touch an imperial diplomat. What about Muhan? He had a personal motive to dislike the Empire, but Rema was a fair judge of character and found it hard to picture him as a brightly-daubed assassin. That left Calan and the mysterious hooded man.
It was too much to think about, and she was tired of this drab palace. Rema returned to the hallway and walked to the nearest guard. He eyed her nervously as she drew closer.
“Good morning, guardsman,” she said. “Is there a tavern close by where the food is edible and the water clean?”
“The
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